Coping
by CaptainKrueger
Summary: "It was moments like this that Jean lived for, feeling Eren resting against him while their breathing synchronized." Erejean. T for language.


Titan fighting was undoubtedly exhausting, this Jean and Eren knew exceedingly well. After cleanup and identifying mangled corpses, all after barely escaping themselves, it left a person physically and emotionally drained. If medical assistance was not required, this usually left people curling up in corners and other odd places and passing out to leave the grimmness of reality to face the grimmness of their dreams.

Unable to be bothered to wash off the sweat, dust, and the spot or two of dried blood caked on his forehead, Jean staggered off somewhere and collapsed against the wall and Eren followed, taking his place between Jean's splayed legs and falling back against Jean's chest. Both youths set their sights on some fixed point without really taking in their surroundings and remained silent. There were things that they could say to one another, but what was the point?

_"Hey. I'm glad you're not dead."_

_"Hey, same."_

_"Try to keep it that way, okay?"_

_"What else do we do every day?"_

It all seemed unnecessary...or—Jean realized—maybe it just made everything real. Too real.

The thing about caring about someone while having this job was that you were constantly worrying about something happening to them every single time you had to put on your gear and fight. You wondered whether you'd see them again. And of course Jean worried that his friends would face the same end as Marco—god, of course he did—but it was different with Eren.

Of course it was.

Truth be told, he worried Jean the most. Everytime Eren ran off and did something goddamn stupid, everytime he was called a threat to humanity, Jean worried.

Jean would sometimes have a hard time falling asleep at night because if the day hadn't been hard enough to make him pass out the moment he flopped into bed, his thoughts would turn to Eren. Jean could all too clearly picture Eren on a metal slab in a laboratory, prepped by dead eyed strangers to be dissected because people were scared shitless and were afraid of him. Sometimes Jean had to keep himself from holding Eren back before he could take off. Sometimes Jean wanted to do more than just nod at Eren before go time—sometimes he wanted to hook his arm around Eren's neck, draw him closer, and rest his forehead against his. He just wanted a few moments before they had to leave to face the Titans because what if it was their last time together?

Jean worried so much, he really couldn't put it into words to explain it to Eren.

Not that he was going to.

Call it a coping mechanism—a really, really bad one—but Jean and Eren didn't talk about it much; if they verbally acknowledged exactly what they meant to one another, the reality of their situation would come hrough, and they didn't want that. Admitting how much they cared meant they had to recognize what it would mean to lose one another and that was something that they were not prepared to face.

Although they refused to say it, that didn't mean the message wasn't clear; where words were restrained, actions snuck through to get the message across. Like the times Jean would draw Eren close as they walked to the mess hall, or when Eren would approach Jean after a long day and drop his forehead onto Jean's shoulder, or like right now, for instance. Eren sighed and rolled his head to rest his left cheek on Jean's chest and Jean felt a lump rising in his throat. He slid his arm around Eren and exhaled slowly, his lids sliding closed.

It was moments like this that Jean lived for, feeling Eren resting against him while their breathing synchronized. It was the closest he could get to feeling peace.

Eren shifted against Jean to get more comfortable while Jean's lips parted as he started to think. Why did they have to deny things to themselves? If they were comfortable enough with each other to basically cuddle in plain sight, then why couldn't they talk?

"Eren," Jean murmured.

"Mmmm..." Eren moaned in response.

"Eren," Jean persisted.

"The hell you want?" Eren grumbled groggily. "I'm trying to sleep."

"I'm glad you're okay," Jean mumbled.

"Mmmm, shut up."

"I'm serious, Eren," Jean insisted.

That garnered a pause. Finally Eren whispered, "I know." Jean slowly wrapped his other arm around Eren. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

And that was all that was needed to be said. It wasn't some grand confession, but it was enough. In fact, it meant everything.


End file.
